


washing dishes

by labeledbones



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: For philkas week day 1: domesticity.He’d made dinner for Lukas. Just spaghetti and meatballs (frozen meatballs, canned sauce), but Lukas devoured it like it was the best meal he’d had in years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [also on my tumblr :) (be friends with me there i have no eyewitness friends lol)](http://blaine-bonerson.tumblr.com/post/155419929660/philkas-week-day-1-pretend-im-not-two-days)

“What are you doing?” Lukas asks, walking back into the kitchen.

Philip looks at him over his shoulder from where he’s standing at the sink. “What? I’m washing the dishes so Gabe and Helen don’t come home to our mess.”

He’d made dinner for Lukas. Just spaghetti and meatballs (frozen meatballs, canned sauce), but Lukas devoured it like it was the best meal he’d had in years.

Philip had wanted to do something for Lukas since he’d been so patient with him through a long string of bad days recently. The number of nights he’d called Lukas crying, Lukas staying on the phone with him until he could fall asleep again. The number of days he’d bailed on plans they’d made (not showing up or even calling) because he just felt like existing was too hard. The sometimes cruel things he heard himself saying to Lukas when he was so angry but had nowhere for the anger to go.

The least Philip could do was boil some pasta and put it on a plate for him.

Lukas smiles now and leans against the counter. “No, dude. You were singing.”

Philip’s iPod is in the dock in the living room playing the ever growing playlist he’s been curating for him and Lukas. Songs that had gone from angsty as hell to wistful to warm and affectionate to, okay sure, some serious make out jams.

“No,” Philip says, feeling his cheeks burning. “I wasn’t.”

Lukas grins and walks up behind him, his arms winding around him, hands slipping under his shirt, his rough fingertips curling against Philip’s hip bones. “Yes," he says, his teeth on Philip's neck. "You were."

Philip sighs and leans into Lukas a little. “My mom- The rare times she actually cleaned the house, it was almost always a disaster- But sometimes she’d wake up and feel good and open the windows. And she would put on Fleetwood Mac or Carole King, old stuff she liked, and she would sing along with it as she did stuff around the house.” He stops, shakes his head a little and goes back to scrubbing at the pot in the sink that’s already clean. “I guess it’s just a habit I picked up from her. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

Lukas presses a kiss to Philip’s throat. “Well, you sound good,” he says. “Like, surprisingly good.”

Philip laughs and turns in Lukas’ arms. “As good as Frank?” he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the stereo playing a Frank Ocean song.

Lukas pretends to think about it. “Sure, why not,” he says, kissing Philip on the mouth.

Philip puts his hands on Lukas’ back and Lukas jerks away from him. “Dude, soap hands,” he groans as Philip flicks more water on him, and they are both laughing in a way they haven’t laughed in a very long time. Philip feels a knot in his chest loosen up as Lukas smiles and steps toward him again, pressing their laughing mouths together and pushing Philip back against the counter.

“You’re okay now, right?” Lukas asks quietly, in the space between kisses. “It sucks when you disappear like that.”

Philip nods, lifting his head to find Lukas’ mouth again. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay now.”

He wants to say, “I’m okay _for_ now,” because he doesn’t know how long it’ll last. He never knows now how long he’ll go before everything goes dark again. He spends every day fighting to keep it out, but sometimes he gets so tired.

They stop kissing and just stand, breathing with each other in the kitchen, foreheads together, the darkness of the night creeping in, the music still playing quietly on the stereo. He has this, he knows that for sure. He has Lukas, surprisingly, unconditionally. He has found something permanent in losing everything else.

“Thank you,” Philip says, almost embarrassed with how earnest it comes out.

Lukas kisses him, laughs. “You’re the one who made me a sick ass dinner _and_ cleaned up _and_ made out with me.”

Philip pinches Lukas’ thigh and steps around him. “Yeah, so where’s my thank you?”

Lukas looks at him, all smirking and raised eyebrows. “When do Helen and Gabe get back?”

Philip doesn’t answer. He’s already on the stairs, pulling Lukas by the hand behind him.


End file.
